No Longer a Part of Me
by fyren galan
Summary: Dumbledore decides to give Harry another chance of growing up normally. So he sends him back in time to 1976-the age of Marauders. Harry just wants to get through his sixth year, but James Potter is making that extremely hard. SLASH, INCEST.


**Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Title:** No Longer a Part of Me

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** slash, language, fluff, innuendo

**Author's Note:** The title comes from a quote by Terri Guillemets: "I was so in the present moment that the past is no longer a part of me."

No Longer a Part of Me

Harry Potter sat next to the window in the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, with an obviously well-read piece of parchment clasped loosely in his fist. He peered anxiously out at the street, his nose pressed to the warm glass. His breath fogged up the view, and he hurriedly wiped the window clean with his shirt. It made no difference; the scene below still looked like a perfectly normal neighbourhood.

He sat back with a sigh, and scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand. Perhaps Dumbledore wasn't coming after all. Perhaps Harry had just imagined it all, the owl arriving two weeks ago with a peculiar letter from the headmaster.

He glanced at it again, though it was fair near memorised, just to ascertain that he had the date correct.

_Dear Harry, _

_If it is convenient to you, I shall call on you this coming thirty-first of August at nine in the evening. When I arrive, I hope to explain a few things to you, and if you will allow me, to make up for past grievances. Please send your reply with Bumbles. I assure you, he is the most perfectly behaved owl I have ever sent. _

_Yours in sincerity, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

Glaring vaguely in the direction of Mrs. Robinson's immaculately pruned boxwoods, Harry hoped that whatever Dumbledore had to tell him would be more than enough to make up for forcing him to stay at the Dursleys' for the entire summer—without any contact from his friends, no less!

He turned away from the window, irritated, and perfunctorily ran his hand down the worn top of his trunk. Sighing, he opened the latch to check for a final time that he had everything he needed. In doing so, he missed the flickering and eventually dying of the streetlamps outside.

It was only when his bedroom was bathed in darkness and the doorbell downstairs was rung that Harry realised that Dumbledore had come for him.

oOo

"What are _you_ doing here?" Uncle Vernon roared.

Harry cursed and flung himself out into the hallway, pounded down the stairs, and skidded to a stop in the entryway. His quivering uncle was pointing an umbrella in the general direction of a genial-looking Albus Dumbledore, who was saying, "My dear boy, I think we would have a much better chance at getting to know each other if you kindly put that weather stick down."

Harry quickly spoke up, "It's alright, Uncle. This is Professor Dumbledore, my Headmaster. He's come to take me away."

Vernon looked critically at the smiling old man, grunted, and threw the umbrella in a corner. "Well, if you're taking that freak away, then I suppose you can come in. Just get out soon."

He turned away, and Harry said nervously, "I just have to get my trunk, Professor. I'll be right down."

Dumbledore said quietly, with a hard look at Vernon's enormous backside, "Take your time, Harry. I should like to have a nice long chat with your guardian."

oOo

When Harry reached the bottom of the stairs for the second time, trunk in hand, Dumbledore was standing by the open door. With a wave of his wand, Harry's trunk disappeared. In answer to Harry's questioning look, Dumbledore replied, "I had it sent ahead to Hogwarts; far easier than trying to lug it about while Apparating. If you will say farewell to your family, then I believe we can be off."

Dumbledore motioned to the room closest to him, and Harry hesitantly stepped into the kitchen, where the Dursleys were huddled around the wooden table.

He scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, and then dropped his hand to his side. "Err...goodbye? Have a—"

Vernon Dursley's unusually pale face made Harry stop in the middle of his half-crafted sentence. His uncle spit out, "Enjoy your year, H-Harry."

Harry froze in shock, unsure if he had just dreamed the statement that came out of the large man's mouth. But with a gentle nudge to his back from Dumbledore, he shook out of his stupor and managed a feeble "thanks" in response.

oOo

Dumbledore complacently patted the place next to him on the plastic park bench. With an tentative glance to the side, Harry sat. The two remained there in silence for a few moments, until the lack of noise grew unbearable for Harry. He blurted out abruptly, "Why am I here, Sir?"

The Headmaster merely looked at him. Harry added nervously, "Not that I don't enjoy your company, Sir. That's not it at all. I was just, err, wondering _why_ exactly you came to get me. That is. Sir."

"I am sure that you are aware of the fact that we live in a time of doubt and peril, Harry."

There was a small pause, and Harry realised that Dumbledore was waiting for him to respond. He hastily interjected, "Yes!" and then Dumbledore continued.

"For years I have impressed this reality upon you; at much too young an age did you find this to be true. Unfortunately, I cannot give you back your childhood, as much as I would like to. However, there is one thing that I may be able to do for you, a minute pittance to somehow alleviate my debt to you."

Harry didn't understand. "Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled gently at him. "I had a small brush with death this summer, my boy. It made me reconsider many decisions I had previously made 'for the greater good.' After all, the greatest good that one can do is to help a friend, is it not?"

Harry said uncertainly, "I...suppose so?"

Dumbledore took out his wand and placed it softly against Harry's temple. He looked questioningly up at the wise man.

"We have let fear rule our lives for much too long, Harry. Perhaps you shall find that death is not the only next great adventure. _Stupefy._"

oOo

"Who d'you reckon he is?"

"I dunno; maybe if you shout _even_ louder, he'll wake up, and we'll all find out."

"Oh, alright then. _HUL_—"

"Merlin, Peter! Shove it and learn how to take a fecking joke!"

"Don't be stupid, laddie. Peter doesn't know how to shove anything besides globs of bridie down his gullet."

"But I love bridie! Especially when the house elves put all those spices in it and they make it with the flaky pastry—"

"Hush, you lot! I think you're waking him up."

"'Bout time, that is. The blighter's been sleeping since we came in. Too much sleep's bad for a chap, y'know."

Harry said dryly, "I can't imagine how anyone could get any excess sleep around here. Do you lot _ever_ shut up?"

"...he's woken up!"

"...I knew there was a reason we let you stick around, Peter. Who else can point out the perfectly obvious like you do?"

Harry sat up slowly and groped about for his glasses. They were handed to him with a quiet "here you are." He put them on—

And blinked several times. Then chuckled shortly. "Go on, then; whose idea was it this time?"

The brown-haired boy stared at him. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the confused-looking teenager. "It was funny, I'll give you that, but it's getting rather old. 'Fess up; who are you? Neville? Seamus? I'll bet that's it—you've got a Seamus-y look about you."

One of the black-haired boys barked out a laugh. "Moony has a 'Seamus-y' look about him? _Ha._ Remus is so far from Irish, it'd be like saying—like saying that I'm ugly!"

The other black-haired boy looked at him. "I think you just disproved your point, Sirius."

Ignoring Sirius's outraged protestations, he stuck out his hand to Harry. "Look, I reckon you think we're playing some sort of joke on you. We're not, I swear. We came into our dorm after the feast and here you were. Are. Anyway, I'm James Potter. This intelligent-looking lad is Remus Lupin, that idiot over there is Sirius Black, and the one sulking in the corner is Peter Pettigrew. And you are?"

Harry stared at the slender hand outstretched towards him. _Chaser hands_, he thought absentmindedly, and murmured, "I could _murder _Dumbledore right now."

oOo

The new boy jumped out of bed and starting pacing the length of the room, occasionally muttering to himself.

James slowly pulled his hand back, and whispered to Remus, "D'you think the Headmaster gave us a barking one? The perfect revenge for all our years of pranks."

Remus gave him a shrewd grin. "I certainly hope he's not batty. It'd be a shame—all that fine arse put to waste."

James stared back at him complacently. "I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about, Moony. I never even glanced at his arse—that's considered quite rude when you first meet someone, you know."

Remus shrugged. "Ah, well. If you didn't notice, then I suppose Sirius and I will have to rope him into a threesome, then—"

James cleared his throat hastily. "Let's not jump to conclusions, now. Perhaps I might've done a smidgen of glancing. Just a wee bit. Enough to judge that I don't think he would be suitable for you brutish gents."

The werewolf smirked at him. "Really? Well, I guess if you think he's unsuitable for us, then he'll just have to find another partner."

James was about to reply when a shaking hand was thrust in front of his nose. He turned to face wild green eyes and an absolutely delectable arse (which unfortunately could not be seen from this viewpoint). "Harry. Pleased to meet you."

Sirius paused long enough in his self-induced brooding to ask, "Harry? No surname?"

Harry gave him a slightly insane smile. "Just Harry, thanks."

James stared at him for a moment, and then shrugged. Arses that gorgeous didn't need surnames. He took the proffered hand and grinned down at Harry. "Welcome to the Sixth Year Gryffindor Dorm, Just Harry."

oOo

_~Three Weeks Later~_

"Sirius, you fecking _git_! Give that back!"

Sirius tore through the Common Room, cackling wildly. He waved a parchment merrily in the air and shouted to Harry, "Not a chance, Just Harry! I told you one day your Defence homework would be mine! This is what you get for not paying attention to me at breakfa—"

His monologue was cut off unexpectedly when he ran into the solid body of James Potter, who snatched the parchment from his grasp. James walked over to Harry and handed the homework to him. "Sorry, Pads doesn't quite understand how to communicate with other members of his species yet; he hasn't evolved as much as the others have."

Harry laughed quietly as he accepted the Defence work from James. "Thank you for rescuing it."

Sirius pouted half-heartedly from the other side of the room, and called out loudly, "You're no fun when you're in lover-boy mode, Prongsie!"

The tips of both boys' ears turned red. Harry hurriedly collected his things, muttered something about studying with Remus, and rushed out of the room.

James turned to glare at Sirius, who appeared to look at least a little guilty. He snapped, "Thank you so much for that, Paddy old pal. _Levicorpus._"

He stormed up to the Dormitory, leaving an upside-down Sirius defenceless to a group of excited-looking girls. Sirius tried to cover his bare abdomen as much as possible, and said nervously, "Ladies, you know I'm taken. This all belongs to Remus Lupin—yes, including _that. _Oh_. That _is particularly off limits. And that. That area, too. And that one. _James!_ I'm sorry; I've learned my lesson! Get me down from here! James? Remus? Anyone? Peter?"

oOo

_~Five Days Later~_

Harry burrowed his head deeper into the large pile of books he had accumulated around him since five days earlier, when he had basically started living in the library. Ever since The Incident with James and Sirius, he didn't think he could face seeing either of them.

Especially James. Whom he had to keep thinking specifically of as "Dad." Otherwise, his thoughts would tend to label the boy as "that smoking one with the dreamy hazel eyes and great hair and full lips and—"

Dad was simpler to say, anyway.

Although Harry was hard-pressed to think of any instance since he had been there that James had even interacted with Lily Evans. As far as he could remember, the only person that James had been around constantly was...him.

"Harry?"

He jumped a metre high. _Who the feck sneaks up on a bloke when he's clearly sitting there, thinking serious thoughts?_

He turned around to find Remus staring at him tiredly, but amusedly. The boy had dark circles under his eyes and was rather pale. As Harry motioned for him to sit down at the table, he recalled that the full moon was only two nights away.

"Sorry; I called your name three times before you responded. It seemed like you were deep in thought about something."

Harry waved a hand airily in the air. "As deep as I can be—that is to say, not at all. What can I do for you, Remus?"

Remus glanced around the library nervously, as if to ascertain that no one could overhear their conversation. Harry leaned forward slightly, wondering if Remus was about to tell him what he thought he might.

Apparently satisfied that no one could eavesdrop on them, Remus whispered, "There's something that I think you should probably know, on account of you living with us. Y'see, the full moon is coming up in two nights. And, well, that night none of us will be in the dorm."

Remus paled a bit, and stopped, as if unsure whether to go on. Harry smiled at him, and replied, "Thank you for telling me. I might have worried a bit. Was that all?"

The brown-haired boy cocked his head. "Err...yes, I suppose. That's it. Yes. Well, then. See you at dinner."

He pushed off the table and proceeded to walk slowly away from Harry.

Harry called out, almost as an afterthought, "Remus?"

He turned around questioningly, and Harry said simply, "I just wanted you to know that you can tell me anything. Nothing you tell me will ever change my judgment on any of you. You know that, right?"

Remus stared in shock at him. Suddenly, he grinned. "'Course. Might take you up that someday."

Harry grinned back. "See that you do."

oOo

_~One Month Later~_

Harry stared in disgust at Peter's open mouthful of white pudding. It rather put him off his appetite. Forcing himself to look away from the ghastly yet intriguing sight, he looked down the table to where James was sitting, arguing with his Quidditch captain. He was waving a piece of toast around wildly to prove his point, gesticulating excitedly towards the salt shaker. Harry smiled softly.

Sirius nudged him in the side. "So when're you going to tell ol' Jamesie that you reciprocate his _amour fort_?"

Harry stared at him. "Firstly, don't use random French words in your sentences, Sirius. It makes you seem poor. Secondly, I have no idea what 'strong love' you're talking about. I thought James was in love with Evans."

Sirius snorted. "That ginger? Don't be stupid; James hasn't talked to her since the end of Fifth Year. He wasn't in love with here, anyway. He just liked annoying her to the point that she'd hex him, 'cos he's a bloody closet masochist. Since you came here, I haven't seen him look at anyone else."

Harry turned a bright red. "I can't imagine why he'd be looking at me, though."

Sirius gave him a shrewd glance. "You can't, eh? I must've been mistaking things, then. Sorry."

His apology was lost on Harry, whose eyes were once again drawn to the animated boy currently munching down on his toast prop.

oOo

_~Seventeen Days Later~_

"Evans, is it?"

She started and squinted up at him. "Sorry; you startled me. Err...yes, I'm Evans. Lily Evans, that is. You're...err—oh! You're that poor new lad that must be rooming with those ghastly Marauders, aren't you?"

Harry gave a half-smile. "I wouldn't go as far as to call them 'ghastly,' but I am rooming with them, yeah."

Apologising hastily, she moved a pile of books so that he could sit down next to her. "What can I do for you—pardon, I don't think I know your name."

Harry sat and replied, "Oh, just call me Harry. I, err, have a question for you. It's about Pot—"

She scowled and interrupted him. "If this is about bloody James Potter, you've got another think coming. I am perfectly happy in my relationship with Frank, and I will never dump him for that absolute _prat_."

Harry gaped at her. "You're—you're in a relationship? I'm sorry, I never knew—"

Her grimace lessened slightly, and she said in a resigned tone, "It's alright. You've just come here. I've been dating Frank Longbottom since the end of our Fifth Year. I will admit that James is rather dashing, and he has matured a great deal since last year, but there's no way that he and I would ever be compatible."

Harry slumped in the chair, stunned. _I reckon it's alright not to think of James as my dad, then._ He refocused and caught the end of Lily's speech. "Did I answer your question, then?"

He got up and smiled vaguely in her direction. "I was just going to ask if you knew when Quidditch practice ended, but thanks anyway."

He floated out of the library, leaving a mortified Lily Evans behind.

oOo

_~Four Days Later~_

"And so, err, I was, ah, wondering if you would possibly want to—wish to potentially accompany me—with you, that is, to a, err—"

Harry waited politely until it appeared that James was finished stuttering his last, and then asked, "James, would you like to go with me to Hogsmeade?"

With a brilliant gleam in his eye, James caught up one of Harry's hands and breathed out, "Oh, _yes_."

They sat there, hand in hand, grinning like loons, until Sirius came along and Hexed Harry's trousers off.

But that was an entirely different story.

FIN.

A/N: This was my entry to Kamerreon's Love a Lion fest! The link is on my profile; please go check it out! There are so many great stories on there-whether you like het, slash, incest, threesomes-every Gryffindor pairing you could think of!


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